He Really Does Have A Telltale Heart
by Sawadoot
Summary: Silence is both welcome and disagreeable. Shouto's left side will never be his first choice; likewise it's the left side that won't ever trust him. (Modern Fantasy, Gen tododeku)
1. I

Disappointment isn't a word he'd ever say in casual conversation, really. It's overused. Whether minimal or terrific, it's a word simply overused all the same. And he's become tired of hearing it lightly dance around brief conversations, "oh- you must be so disappointed."

Shouto lessens his expectations at the drop of a hat.

Perhaps his own expectations are simply too high. Perhaps Shouto haphazardly placed them on the wrong sort of people. A half dozen become spectres and slip through his hands quicker than they'd settled into his home. Expectations are heavy. People dislike the word and resolutely- so does he.

He is always reminded of that fact the second cold fingers start to sort through each fortune. He sorts each one carefully aware of their weight; they guide him with their own potential. He's generally aware of them. They're fortunes of people in town, fortunes that he can grasp in his cupped hands.

But Shouto doesn't know how to read them.

What is the use of magic if he hasn't learned how to use it? A useless, silly little practitioner says his growing self doubt who picks apart his thoughts and scatters them. He doesn't want to depend on 'gifts' if they could count as that. In comparison to what they've become, originally his magic was a gift. But there isn't anything else to rely on. Shouto still wouldn't say he's disappointed in this outcome.

Shouto passes off another failure and calls it a night. With his bedroom lights off, it's dark and quiet. He wishes it were at least a bit louder because then these dreadful things wouldn't happen. Hunkering down isn't an option.

He isn't a child any longer. And his old man knows that.

Heavy footsteps echo his fear at the tender hour of four. Doorknob rattling angrily in time with the anxious pounding of his heart. Things here are a bit funny - he should give up on both gifts. Desperate attempts at magic only fuel the silence. Tomorrow will be a day for multiple band-aids and a shop visit. Maybe someone else will make use of these indecipherable books.

Creaky hinges scream loudly that it isn't quiet anymore.

* * *

Freckles are tiny sunbeams. They occur when your face has become so lovely even the sun wants to be part of you. If this were the case their neighborhood errand boy holds hundreds of sunbeams just below his eyes.

And a hundred more when his face scrunches into a broad grin.

Having something to hide isn't all that hard. There aren't many deep, dark secrets in their town anyhow. It's tiny; built for summer homes that the rich outsiders visit on vacation with their families.

Things are more lively during a holiday.

Izuku can do just about any loose task according to the older residents. If it's a school day then those jobs are strictly limited to afternoons. Never mornings. Regardless, it's fun to help. Being odd but reputable gave him more leeway and it isn't as if any of these things are ill intended.

He just likes to help.

That deems this an unfortunate day for him. The sad eyed boy is back, the one who is incredibly polite but incredibly one that buys odd books with few words and fewer expressions; after receiving his change not even well wishes that follow him into the street are capable of rousing any reaction.

Today Izuku is sorting books on the tippy top shelves, straining at the top rung that protests his wriggling. Even up here he can't reach despite his instructions to find all three titles scribbled messily on a piece of scrap paper. Either he needs to grow taller in the next few seconds or find a larger ladder.

Amidst his struggling the bell on the front door rings, and he's tempted to jump straight down from the ladder. It's a foolish decision, really, seeing as how he wouldn't get just a few scrapes, but it was an impulse. A tempting impulse.

"Um, uh-" To his embarrassment, the only person staring back at him, when he turns halfway off the ladder to get a good look, is the sad eyed boy. And the manager stepped out for a moment. "Would you mind waiting a- a few seconds?"

He's higher up than he thought.

"Yeah."

He didn't know that boy could talk that loud. But then, he never talks much anyway so that's probably why. Izuku could never fix his worrisome nature and to say he wasn't worried now would be a lie.

Climbing halfway down takes only a minute and the rest- he jumps for it. Izuku supposes it's a good thing his mother isn't around to scold his reckless behavior. There's no one but himself and this regular customer.

With all these books he's returning.

"Was there something wrong with these?" It's standard to ask as he shifts through titles about fortunes, predictions and whatnot. There are so many books; how many had he collected within their one month return policy? "Anything particular?"

"No." Sad eyes takes a moment to rethink his statement. "Not really."

"Oh. Okay then." Izuku watches him place each book on the counter one after the other. With all those smooth receipts sticking out the front covers he can't help but wonder if they were even touched.

"Not to be nosy but- why did you buy so many of these books?" It's not really poking around he tells himself. Since sad eyes _technically_ has the incentive to tell him to shut up, after all. Izuku fights the urge to reach up and rub his temples nervously for all he's worth. He already knows he's too meddlesome.

Once again it's only them in this cozy shop. Small wooden counters and an odd variety of cushioned sofas and chairs that don't match against soft red walls only accented by the worn white trim. There are plants scattered throughout the windows and tables. Shelves of all shapes and sizes are lined if not cramped with a plentiful selection of books against every wall. For some reason his hesitation and the midday sun makes all of these things uncomfortable; an odd feeling, considering his familiarity with the place.

"I don't need them anymore." Reasonable enough. But only when those words don't sound so especially distressed.

Izuku sucks in his anxiety and goes for it. "What's your name?"

Sad eyes only stares in a daze. "My name?"

It's too late. He's already asked despite wrestling fear that all this is no good. "Yeah. You come in frequently so I- um, I thought I might as well learn your name. You know... as a regular and all," He nearly knocks over a book fumbling to reach over the counter and holding out a shaky hand. "I'm Midoriya Izuku, by the way…"

He's going to leave him hanging, isn't he,

To his surprise, the unlucky boy is shaking his hand with maybe even the faintest smile. He doesn't look so sad, right now. "My name is Todoroki Shouto."

In Izuku's nervousness he's almost wildly shaking it back until they loosen hands. "Okay now I need my hand back." When he smiles it's pleasant.

"I've gotta sort all these receipts."

* * *

 **I'm not updated all the way on the manga yet so we're starting slow lmao forgive me. A very special thanks to altered-karma (tumblr) for bulk editing the shit out of this with me an entire hour and fortitudesouth (also tumblr) for all your helpful edit suggestions!**

 **More thanks to Grahm (Sawadork on AO3) for looking over things first because my gay baby heart is so nervous about this.**


	2. II

Rolling deep, white hills dip into lighter pastures, their mounds of snow piling against wooden fences and pushed to the roadsides after a much needed plowing earlier that day. Shouto stands almost calf deep in the middle of such an untouched field, squinting. Knit hat pushed haphazardly far up his forehead; taking almost his entire front bangs with it.

Playing in the snow was a fuss. At least for those who had to hang up his wet clothes and his father who is undoubtedly peeved at skipping the first fifteen minutes of their mandatory; forced, training. Regardless Shouto has no desire to stay inside.

Trudging through all this snow kicks up a fine powder behind him with every step and he doesn't have to glance over his shoulder to know his back is covered with snow. Using his quirk would ruin the thrill of his exploration thus he refuses to do so.

Instead lurching forward with a mighty leap to cling against another fence with both half-frozen hands. Shouto doesn't particularly mind how his feet seem to be swallowed whole; boots and even half his legs more like in the white landscape. He does mind her quiet laughter as she kicks her legs up back and forth from her place on the iron wrought top rung. Momo is taller and probably strong enough to hoist herself up even in this sort of weather.

Shouto hasn't the strength to climb one rung of the fence.

Ice crackles up the iron rails in a frustrated zig-zag and Momo offers her hand to him with no hesitation but instead a disappointed sigh. Her oversized scarf wrapped so many times around her neck Shouto wonders how she breathes in several layers of scratchy wool and four pairs of socks most likely. "You're a bit slow."

He spares no response, grabbing onto her outstretched hand and grudgingly allows himself to be dragged upwards where she sits. Their 'gateway' of exploration is hardly that tall but even from this height the usual dusted treeline, frozen pond and like can be seen through a new set of eyes.

Momo is saying something but his mind is so incredibly fixated on what fun things might be in store if they explore past the greenish, rock solid pond that Shouto manages exhaling a nonchalant "mmm," and that would be it as far as their conversation goes. Until Momo reaches out intending to adjust Shouto's bangs, mussed and somewhat static from his hat; now dangerously close to falling off his head.

"What?"

It took her a little off-guard. Momo hadn't expected him to grab her hand so suddenly. Thinking about it now asking first would've been a politer approach. She figures a small portion of Shouto's hesitancy has to do with his scar, and he does occasionally complain about it hurting when their toughest days wind to an end.

"Your hat is falling off," She's embarrassed now. "I was trying to fix it." Shouto's fingers adjust around her hand comfortably. Pulling it forward to rest on his hat along with a partial bit of his head, she relaxes into his welcoming behavior. Setting to work and along the lines becoming so caught up that Shouto's collar is adjusted as well. "That kind of thing is fine." So he says.

"Alright! Now that we've met as planned, where should we explore? How much time do you have today?" Momo's questions are met with Shouto's uncontainable grin. "Almost two hours today, it's a lucky afternoon." Smiles are contagious.

"It's super lucky today. Now we can do some real adventuring!" Shouto likes when she's excited; firing him up as well for their longest adventure of the month.

And the last—

* * *

An incurable drowsiness. Shouto isn't like this, at least normally. He grumbles into the nook of one arm; both arms are curled beneath his head as he lies on his stomach sideways across the futon. _I'm cold_ , he thinks, but resolves to do nothing and continues occupying time as an immovable sack of potatoes. Blaming weather instead.

In fact, glaring through the window right this moment at snowflakes that amassed overnight and refuse to take a rest, harassing him to no end with a twinge of unusual annoyance, Shouto decides he's even too tired to close the shades. Late afternoon shadows crawling up his walls and fading into uncomfortable sunlight jeer, and cast themselves amongst trampled snow just outside his room.

 _Get up. At least eat._ It's a little satisfying to be lying down and ignoring ice-cold feet. The result of forgetting to put on socks.

Inconvenienced by his own need to sustain himself through food Shouto rouses himself enough to see a bit clearer and maybe prop his right arm up, preparing for the incommodious task of hoisting his heavy body out of bed. The first time his arm slips out from beneath his unexpected weight — Shouto lets himself fall, face first.

Then resolves to sit up.

Then counter resolves to let himself fall face first once more.

Persistent knocking outside his door is what finally irritates Shouto enough to hoist himself up by first the arms, then the rest of the body following. Taking very long, unsteady strides across the room and hesitantly turning the equally cold doorknob. And maybe it won't —

"You should eat something," Fuyumi appears unwell, they both know full and well the reason; however long it may not be present today. "You haven't left your room yet — at least ," Shouto's nod only cuts off her further thoughts, spoken aloud. And they relapse into usual silence.

Only when _he — that man_ isn't present — do they eat together.

Shouto's sluggish movements are only exasperated by an occasional bumping against the table's edge with his arm, dropping food onto it's lightly scratched top. He could hardly take any bites fast enough. Eventually laying his chopsticks to the side, disgusted at his own incapabilities when cheerless precipitation is involved.

"Maybe we should warm up the house." Fuyumi suggests carefully, sweeping bits of escaped rice into her palm. And then blanches at her own suggestion. "I take that back."

Shouto knows it's his cue to disperse as Fuyumi rushes their half-eaten dishes to the sink in a blind panic, dumping Shouto's portion in to trash and scrubbing at his dishes furiously. They don't want to get in any sort of trouble with telltale signs. His shoulder reminds him with a dull throb that its been all but wrenched from its socket recently. He, sad eyes, sweeps into his room on quick, noiseless feet and quietly clicks the door shut just as the front door greets Enji home with a sickening thud.

Heavy footsteps and sloshing water chime Fuyumi is nervously scrubbing to keep her panic under wraps. Shouto leaves the door unlocked.

Empty bookshelves remind him there is nothing without knowledge, and knowledge is power. And magic is —

"Shouto."

Useless on someone who can't properly help others. Creaky wooden doors, metal knobs that rattle ominously and _him — enough._ That man could search desperately around town all afternoon but only in the evening will he ever catch Shouto. So Shouto decides, when the door fully opens and he's left out the open window. Despite the freezing cold. Hearing Enji yell only quickens his pace over the sloping hills and open fields of their home. Past the half-frozen pond that's been around for ages.

Shouto feels six years old again.

There isn't anywhere else to go; it isn't as if he has money in his pockets and he'll be back within a few hours once the sky is dark. Stomping through patches of slush in loosely tied sneakers and no coat, Shouto can't help but feel unbearably cold.

 _I shouldn't have left her_. Always running away.

Muddled regrets interrupt each other over and over, leading him blindly down heavily trodden paths where the powdery soft snow turned to dirty slush, flattened by a great many footprints that humans and animals alike left behind themselves. Each thought pokes at his clouded judgement, flexing his fingers and wrists hoping for something other than _this_ magic. Shouto wants _different_ magic. Shouto wants some sort he can create with his own hands, and if anything let this reality of flames and forced destinies die.

Enji ought to be after him now or instead —

Snow comes down suddenly on his head, it slips down his shirt causing Shouto to yelp, stumbling off the beaten path a bit and digging his sneakers into the mud as an added injury to the dreaded training day.

"What are you doing?" Shouto asks the chilly air.

Midoriya Izuku — a lamppost — Midoriya on the lamppost hugging the pole tightly like a bear cub with his legs wrapped around the entire post. He doesn't seem to be struggling really more like concentrated on his task. Which happens to be replacing its burnt out bulb judging how he's attempting to unscrew the blackened bulb with his left hand all while maintaining position with his right. A clear bulb tucked into his breast pocket.

"Oh,Todoroki! I'd ask you what you're doing out here without any coat but first — if you wouldn't mind catching this?" He twists a burnt bulb between his fingers, wiggling it a bit for Shouto to better see. At the slight incline of Shouto's head Izuku drops it carefully.

His coatless friend catches it clumsily between frozen hands and sneezes when stray bangs tickle his nose. Shouto tuckes the frozen light between both hands still and waits for Izuku to finish his chore — quickly screwing in a replacement before swinging the paneled glass shut with a click. "Thanks."

Izuku slides down the post like a firemans pole bearing a huge grin. Then comes his 'nagging look' as Ochako always stresses whenever she's present for it. "Aren't you wearing too little layers?" Shouto stares back with dead fish eyes unsure of how to reply and Izuku's tone switches immediately to embarrassment. "I mean — i t's like this, we've only met twice I know but — aren't you freezing? You might get sick." He's wringing his hands now, nervous.

"I guess I- I forgot…" A cutting chill mocks how anyone with a sense of feeling could forget a coat in this sort of weather. But Shouto hasn't a better formulated excuse which feels odd, he has a memorized script of excuses by now. Icy fingers thread together over glass, fooling with the metal ridges of that bulb, and tracing them.

 _I don't believe you_ , Izuku's eyes say. But he speaks nothing of it. Merely, "okay." Offering Shouto his own gloves at least. "Are you headed home then?"

Midoriya's sharp, prying nature is uncomfortable. Shouto doesn't wish to speak of those things. Half-truths and little white lies aren't exactly a horrendous thing to make use of. "No. I have somewhere I want to be." Shouto focuses himself on counting the numerous splotched freckles on Midoriya's cheeks rather than looking into his all-knowing eyes. Not that he does know. He couldn't and Shouto isn't about to let wicked words betray what he's thinking.

Todoroki is clamming up, and Izuku bites his lip, mentally berating himself for having run his mouth so much and making the sad eyes boy even sadder. Words come out rushed, tripping over the other in jarring repetition. "O-oh, is that so? Sorry for being nosy I guess. It's a habit of mine though Mom says I shouldn't be too overbearing with others — and I kinda lose sight of that. You seem cold and all I wanted to be sure you were okay and I'm rambling but I really, really hope you're okay. I don't want people to feel bad or anything is all, um,"

He wishes Todoroki would say something instead of staring blankly like that. It makes him seem all the more dead.

"I'm fine." Shouto's reply comes out as a tentative whisper and Izuku has to strain his ears to hear it. Not so, people don't just walk around in the dead of winter hardly dressed and looking as if they're about ready to cry. Though he isn't about to but Shouto looks miserable enough to.

"The bookshop is nearby and it's pretty warm in there. Toshinori won't mind if we hang out there a little?" Izuku offers him a tentative hand only met with confusion. "Bookshop? Oh —" Todoroki seems to vaguely remember it. Though it's only been a little over a month since his last trip there. After ridding himself of his collection there wasn't much of a reason to visit.

"Yeah, let's go?" The smaller boy offers.

Shouto doesn't take Izuku's hand but falls into stride next to him."Okay." Midoriya fills the silence with aimless chatter while only a nod or hum assured him Todoroki is still listening. Scuffing his sneakers along the sidewalk while Shouto seems a bit too worried over his own muddy ones. "I don't have a lot of time," He admits. "But I can stay a little, maybe."

Izuku understands. The lull of dim yellow lights casted on shadowed snowdrifts seems unusually welcome— sky beginning to darken— Shouto doesn't really intend to stay too long. And with luck Endeavor had brushed right past Fuyumi in his rage to catch him by the collar. He won't cross his fingers for it though in an array of chiming shop bells and a soft "welcome."

Aforementioned Toshinori's bookshop is awfully warm. But Izuku's chatter is drowning out whatever thoughts he can recognize. Shouto stares as the dead bulb still in his hands and sees himself in its smudged reflection.

* * *

 **updates are slow going and this chapter is twice the size of my usual chapter lengths but in this case all the better? tune in next time for shouto to discover that turkish delight is indeed good enough to sell out ones family**


	3. III

**warnings: domestic abuse in this chapter (though not too graphic) and all in all, the whole thing is tragic**

 **i also forgot to mention the turkish delight part comes in later on wow**

.

* * *

Brightly colored sheets rustle, still reflecting their colors despite how dimly lit Izuku's room is. His nightlight casting a dull glow across the carpet. One arm slung over the bedside, with his comforter dangerously close to slipping off his body and falling to the floor in a messy pile. He presses his feet farther into those patterned sheets while his hand idly starts to sway back and forth. Izuku wants to sleep but he can't— not with all these racing thoughts that pique his awareness and consequently, his mind into remaining wide awake.

Toshinori's words had been so heavy tonight— And Todoroki looked as if he were about to crumble beneath them. Because of magic. Initially that was never the topic of interest but,

"Midoriya, my boy! You're in the company of a friend today—" Toshinori takes a second to recognize who it is, taking off his reading glasses and gently placing them on the tidy countertop decorated with colorful pens, several piles of slips, books ranging from little to big, pretty flowers that were a gift and knicknacks of all sorts. "Ah, young Todoroki! What a surprise, how have you been?" Maneuvering around the register Toshinori holds his shaky arms wide open, and Shouto wills himself to step into a welcoming hug.

It isn't all that unpleasant. His shirt is a strangely mixed scent of gathered dust and brown sugar. This is All Might. Shouto has never dared ask if he is the great magician— wizard, but it's a gut feeling and he doesn't intend to pry. That isn't his place.

"I've been well. It's very nice to see you again." Shouto is stiffly formal as he musters up courage, giving Toshi the tiniest pat on his back. Izuku is rattling with so much energy that Shouto can scarcely follow with his eyes much less keep up conversationally. This bookshop is pleasant as ever with its mismatched chairs and lovely red walls, books of all shapes as far as the eye can see but that's also what makes it mildly uncomfortable. The books.

"Have you dropped by for another title?" Toshi lets go and steps back to look at him— Shouto can't meet his eyes.

"No. I haven't…" The small of his back is burning.

"I brought Todoroki here without really asking. He's looking cold so I thought your place because it's closest," Izuku is loosening his scarf, the shop is a little too warm. "Sorry."

Toshi gives them both a soft laugh, pleased with surprise company rather than irritated as Izuku feared he might be. "Nothing to apologize for my boy! It's getting late but maybe a cup of tea or cider before you get along is in order, hm?" He stumbles next to the counter a tad, and they're both out of their seats offering Toshinori a shoulder while their words overlap one another.

"Let me!"

"Allow me!"

Shouto can't help the upturn of his mouth. They're both so silly. And Izuku gawks back. "You smiled!" His words tumble out before he can stop them. They come to a screeching halt, pooling into regret, winding back and slamming into his gut. He feels unspeakably dreadful just now. And he wishes Shouto's smile had stayed a little longer. "I'm so sorry Todoroki that isn't what I meant! I just have a big mouth and I can't properly relay—"

Shouto is helping Toshi to his feet, one arm wrapped around his shoulders to steady the kindly bookkeeper. Hand resting underneath the arm. "It's fine," Todoroki doesn't sound upset but then again Izuku can't be sure that he isn't. "I'm surprised myself." Those words settle into an unspoken confusion but both collectively know best to set it aside.

"Sorry about that, young Todoroki. These legs are weaker than they used to be." Toshi shifts his gravity onto his left foot in order to alleviate the weight pressed up against Shouto who is currently the only thing standing between him and a nosedive into the floor. "I'm in my ripe old age it would seem." A floorboard creaks loudly beneath their combined weight.

"I don't mind." Shouto is at a loss for what else he can say. Nothing quite conveys his feeling of elation at being able to help someone. And with a jolt he realizes that someone is All Might. It isn't necessarily that it's All Might but at the same time his rising excitement contradicts that this elation is exactly because this is the legendary master of the arts, and his childhood hero. Shouto does his best to keep all these things inside of him as Toshi lowers himself into the nearest seat. It barely groans as he settles in.

Toshinori is very much a skeleton of a man. That's to be expected—

Izuku hurried off somewhere in the back. For what, he doesn't know but loud rattling suggests he's making tea with somewhat clumsy hands or knocking around pans. Frost dances at Shouto's fingertips in an effort to restrain his emotions, and anxiety. He quickly wills it away at first notice.

But not quickly enough it would seem because Toshinori suddenly took interest in the aftermath of tiny drops. "Quite the magical gift you have there. Who taught you how to use it?"

He doesn't mean any harm by prodding but for Shouto— he would prefer not to answer at all. Only shrugging it off with a half-hearted, very tired, "it's just something my old man taught me."

"I see. It isn't often one is granted a combination of two opposing elements. There's advantage in that." Shouto nearly pales. But quickly recovers having realized who exactly he's talking to and that it only made sense he's able to sense the hidden second, possibly obvious element. Shouto's stomach still churns and flips making him nauseous.

"Yes. I don't plan on using it though."

Toshi blinks at Shouto's words, mouth pressing into a thin line. "Why is that?"

"I need—" Shouto hesitates. Is he really comfortable with disclosing _that_ to All Might? Expressing his deepest desire to someone who has already greatly surpassed anything he could ever dream of becoming. And the greatest enemy of his old man, they shouldn't even be speaking. "Different magic." Toshi's nonchalant finger tapping has him distracted for a moment. Watching his nails aimlessly wander along the cushioned armchair before sliding back down to the lightly scuffed table that separates them.

"Different? How would you define a _different_ magic?" His voice is gentle, quiet. Shouto likes that. There isn't anything hostile in his questions. Only inquisitions.

"I don't know…" Shouto admits with a shrug. Letting his jaw slack and hands unclench slowly once he's aware of them, better relaxing into the armless wood chair. "It just needs to be different. But relearning is so—"

"What are you talking about?" Izuku has returned with three mugs of tea and a box of crackers tucked beneath his arm. A plate of cookies wobbles dangerously from its balanced place on his forearm, crumbs already tumbling off. Setting one mug before Toshi, then one before Shouto, settling down to nurse his own cup as the smell of herbs wafted through the shop. "Let me in on it too, won't you?" He rearranges cookies across the plate, embarrassed.

"Just discussing methods of magic practitioning. Or for young Todoroki, relearning a _different_ sort of magic." Toshi's emphasis jarrs Shouto enough to become tight lipped for a moment. He concentrates on watching the bookkeeper peel open a pack of buttery round crackers, picking out one slowly as if he doesn't quite trust them.

"Wait, you have magic capabilities?" Izuku leans forward a bit too eagerly with his palms pressed against the table side. They all feel it scrape forward the slightest bit. Izuku's hands find their way back to his cup of tea, wrapping fingers through the handle and cupping the side restlessly. "A lot of people have those capabilities so it isn't anything to be embarrassed of I think."

"I guess. I didn't think it was that important." Shouto isn't willing to give a demonstration, and considerately they don't ask for one.

Izuku lacks words for a few seconds. "I mean, it isn't the most important thing but usually someone would at least mention it, you know? That kinda thing comes up often."

Shouto can agree to disagree. "No one asked."

"That's fair, I guess?" Izuku looks thoughtful. "What kind of magic are you experienced in then?" Midoriya best not ask it but his mouth refuses to speak.

Toshi beats him to the punch. "Elemental isn't it? A combination between those two is quite strong."

Izuku's eyes go round. Shouto's mouth is suddenly dry. "No— it's unbalanced." He replies with hardly a whisper. Shouto is becoming desperate for a topic change and suddenly his tea has become quite interesting, eyes narrowed into slits.

"What sort of magical quirk do you have?" The question is directed at Izuku, whose face falters a bit before he collects himself. Thumbs twiddling nervously beneath the table. He noticeably jitters. But Todoroki doesn't shift his gaze from the ripples of motion in his tea.

Shouto doesn't catch the looks exchanged between both Toshinori and Midoriya either.

And Izuku, who's so obviously wracking his mind at miles per a minute for an excuse— white lie— anything, jumps when Todoroki's chair screeches backwards a tad bit. Grating against his ears and chasing away the beginnings of a coherent half-truth from his mind. "It's fine." Todoroki's words perplex him further. "I won't ask anything I'm not inclined to know."

That was that. Toshinori eats a cracker loudly in one whole bite.

Both turn towards him as he brushes crumbs from his apron. "Well, my boy, since we've gone so far as to pursue the topic— let's talk statistics. As you probably know the conversion of magical abilities isn't impossible— but it might as well be in most cases. Deviating from all you know as the current quirk user you are now will be difficult, even dangerous in some ways." There isn't any warning as his finger flicks over, pointing at Shouto. "Because your abilities are the same as the air in your lungs. In some ways it's your blood and you can never break off entirely from it."

"That's fine." Midoriya chokes on his tea. Receiving another sidelong glance from Todoroki. "Water-based elements are fine."

"Water-based, huh?" Izuku is muttering to himself, and it hits Shouto like one of his father's punches that by sharing even this much he isn't being wise. Yet backing out isn't so easy an option. However hard it may be he's going for it.

Shouto's hand fiddles with his house key miraculously tucked away inside his sweats pocket— it's late. Not late at night but _late for pre-bedtime training_. And having skipped out on mandatory afternoons when Enji is home, he'd rather submit to the lashing and get it over with.

Shouto doesn't realize how loudly his foot is anxiously tapping until someone's throat clears once or twice. He finally looks up from his tea which had entertained his focus for the past several minutes. It's lukewarm. Both are looking at him, and Shouto swallows thickly.

"I hear chocolate has a calming effect on people?" Izuku is making that up. When Shouto looks at him, the boy with too many freckles for god to count and a million dollar smile, he wonders how he hadn't noticed before just how deep his green eyes are or their peculiar shine. Midoriya is pushing the cookie plate towards him from across the table.

"What?" Shouto inwardly winces at how cold his own voice sounds.

Midoriya lights up in an embarrassed stutter, trying to explain at whirlwind speed. "I-I heard that sweet things are comfort foods sometimes— and I thought by chance you'd like some, it could be yours too, but I was wrong and— I'm sorry I thought I was helping I guess, dude I'm s—" His rapidly waving arms only succeed in making Todoroki dizzy.

"Midoriya."

"Ah— yeah?"

"You're fine. I don't like sweet things, that's all. I apologize."

Izuku hesitantly pulls back the cookie plate looking a bit whipped. "No," He mumbles, nervousness getting the better of him as he fiddles with the plate's rim. "You don't have to apologize for not liking something." Toshinori, who'd been quiet their whole exchange, speaks up pointedly.

"If it's focusing on one element I can only offer books for you, young Todoroki. Nothing more, unfortunately things don't work like they used to." There's a hidden meaning in the way he says 'things'. But Shouto couldn't catch it as Izuku did. "I have quite the collection on water-based practices though, if I do say so myself." Toshi laughs at his own joke. "And I do."

"That's kind— but I think I'll have to pass up your offer." He isn't making any sense and Shouto has no logic to bury the evidence of his contradictions. "Not that I don't appreciate it. But it was only a silly idea I had on a whim."

Their faces say they're not convinced and Shouto desperately scrambles for words. But the only thing he can manage to say is, "I'm expected to return home now, thank you for you hospitality." Todoroki's voice sounding stuffed with cotton to his own ears.

"No helping that." Toshinori says much to his relief, rising unsteadily from his chair the same time Shouto does. Instead of a hug Toshi reaches across, patting him on the shoulder. Touch uncomfortably soft and mindful. "But promise me you'll visit this old man sometime next week at the very least? It isn't often I get to have such a pleasant chat with one of Midoriya's friends." 'Friend' succeeds in stunning Todoroki, though not visibly.

He looks to Izuku, who beams at him, having risen himself, and then to Toshinori who looks at him so expectantly. "I will try." No promises made. But it's enough.

They send him off with smiles and several warm wishes. It isn't until Shouto fades out of sight bundled in a lent jacket and scarf, that Toshinori turns to Izuku in all seriousness. "Be cautious around him. Not that there's anything wrong with that boy— I'm worried about the things that are holding onto young Todoroki. Leave it to me and don't go about doing reckless things by yourself."

Izuku still wonders what he meant by that.

* * *

The house is dark, and quiet, and still. Shouto regards this as a good sign. Treading the floor weightlessly, creating hardly a sound as he makes way to his room in a strangers coat and scarf. Heart beating wildly. The house is silent.

His heart leaps to his throat. So is Endeavor— crouched by the dining room table, fully wreathed in flames. Deadly silent. Barely audible noises take Shouto's ears a moment to register as soft crying. And he forgets to use his indoor feet. Endeavor whips around the second he's taken two steps, eyes hardened and narrowed with anger.

His shifting reveals Fuyumi toppled over on the floor, and she's cradling the right side of her face inflamed with an irritated, splotched red. Sobbing there's nothing she can do. It seems Enji only hit her once. But once is enough for Shouto. He can't see. He can't breathe, _can't breathe_. The fear in his eyes doesn't rival the anger in his heart, the disgust—

"Shouto!" Enji rises to full height.

Shouto's legs are moving towards him before he knows it. They're running, they're charging— ice spreading along the floor before him, fists raised in a mixture of fear and _rage_. Leaping at him, daggers of ice shoot from his wrist like poisoned darts. Fuyumi is screaming. And his skull connects with Enji's fist.

* * *

"I want you to leave." Fuyumi gasps, then she sobs. At the end of his futon where he lays covered in bandages upon bandages where the wounds couldn't— wouldn't heal no matter how much she begs Endeavor. To Shouto this is for her own good, and his, and their poor mother's. Wherever she may be. Shouto's mouth is muffled by the bandages around his face, but he doesn't regret them. He only regrets he wasn't strong enough to land a single blow.

"S-shouto—"

"I _need_ you to leave."

Fuyumi won't touch his bandaged hand for fear of hurting him no matter how hard she's crying, how conflicted her heart is. " _Why?_ I came back to be with _you_. So you won't be alone anymore. Please don't say it." He wishes he could raise a hand to comfort her. But they're both immobilized for the time being.

"We're powerless. You're an adult and he doesn't—" Shouto's voice betrays him with the tiniest croak. "Father shouldn't control you anymore. I shouldn't be your deadweight to tolerate that. Do you understand?" She's shaking her head 'no'. And he raises his voice an octave. "I won't forgive you if you stay here."

 _Please don't leave me alone._

He ignores the tiny voices screaming at him from inside. "You need to do this for us both."

 _I can't be alone again. Not like before._

Fuyumi understands all too well. Reluctantly. Grieving what all these things have come to and how it's turned out to be. Even listed as a guardian she can still do nothing when it comes to their father. They both know that.

"Okay."

Shouto lets Fuyumi takes pictures as future evidence. Despite the fact her eyes are so swollen that she can hardly see.

And when he hears her packing in the next room, Shouto doesn't cry. When she kisses his forehead goodbye, brushing the bangs from his bandaged face and promising, "I'm going to work as hard as I can. I'll visit often, and someday, Shouto, I'll get full custody. Then we'll go find mom." He doesn't cry at that time either.

Only when he can see her through his bedroom window getting into the taxi cab, when it pulls from the drive piled in flawless snow, when it all settles in twenty minutes later that Fuyumi is gone and the house it quiet once again, shadows melting and dancing across the walls of his bedroom.

Only then does Shouto shed a few tears. He wouldn't beg.

Enji swears he isn't allowed to leave the house until every visible wound heals. Shouto doesn't have the strength to do anything else other than sleep anyhow.

* * *

 **for each outraged scream he gets endeavor will be decked later on. it takes me a long time to update but hopefully the whopping 3k words in this chapter will make it worth the while lmao,,,, happy holidays my dudes, thanks for giving it a read**


End file.
